My daughter enters kindergarten tomorrow. I can’t believe it.
Time hasn’t exactly flown by for me. I write to my children every day, reflecting on the day’s events, noting tiny bits of amusement, and selecting photos of time spent together. This process, which I began when I first knew that my wife was pregnant, serves as an excellent way of marking time and remembering the moments. It slows things down a bit. Makes a month feel like a month. A year feel like a year.
I’m not left wondering where the time has gone. I can look back and see it. I feel it’s weight and heft. I just can’t believe how little time there has been since she was first born.
Five years is nothing. Clara is everything.
Now a part of her will belong to the world. She is joining the community, beginning the hopefully slow, inexorable separation from her parents. Thankfully, happily, joyously, that process has many, many years to go.
Today I celebrate my daughter’s last day with us before we hand her over to teachers and principals and the start of her future. Today is her special day, we have told her. Anything she wants.
She has chosen playgrounds and splash pads and ice cream.
I hope these choices will never change.
